An Auntie Made Not Born
by Ennon
Summary: Although Auntie Wainwright worked very hard to project the image of a greedy, mean, conniving and heartless old lady, perhaps she may not have started out that way. If one has ever wondered what she may have been like when young , what influenced her to live her life her way or whether she ever knew love, this fanfic may satisfy queries. Please read review.
1. Chapter 1

"An Auntie Made Not Born"

_A/N- Inasmuch as I found Auntie Wainwright one of the most colorful and entertaining characters on 'LOTSW' and she seemed to be a fan and producer fave for decades, I found it interesting how little of her actual background was ever revealed on the show- not even her actual given name. So here's a fanfic that gives one possibility_. _I'm not writing this for any profits and fully acknowledge that Auntie's entirely owned by the remarkable team of producer/writer Roy Clarke and the performer Jean Alexander._

Bide-A-Wee Hospital, Holmfirth, West Yorkshire- November, 2013

"So what's her condition?" 'Truly' Truelove asked the Registrar Nurse at the front desk.

" 'Ow the 'ell would I know? She just came in a minute ago?" 35-year-old Penny Beaufort, RN sniffed.

"You wouldn't know any better with your grape-colored locks!" Truly sniffed.

"Antagonizing those trying to help her is not the wisest course," 'Electric' Entwhistle pleaded as he grabbed Truly's right arm.

"It would help if we got a bit of 'er background," Penny sneered.

"We told you! She had just sold Cleggy a Smartphone cover and was putting the cash in till when she suddenly collapsed out cold !" Truly fumed.

"I said I didn't need a Smartphone so why would I need a Smartphone **cover**?" Norman 'Cleggy' Clegg groaned.

"You two have been hermits in your homes for too long. Time to join world again!" Entwhistle insisted.

"So if ya 'elp give us the needed info, that would 'elp," Penny pleaded.

"We told you," Truly boiled.

"Wot's 'er name?" Penny groaned.

"Auntie Wainwright!" Truly protested.

"Now, I've come 'cross some peculiar monikers in me years at this desk but I've yet ta meet someone 'ose mother named 'em 'Auntie'!" Penny protested.

"But that's all anyone's ever known by as long as she's lived here!" Truly sputtered.

"Does she 'ave any kin 'round?" Penny asked.

"I just called Howard and Pearl Sibshaw on Smartphone. They're on way!" Entwistle announced.

"Are you sure that will help?" Truly asked.

"Howard IS Auntie Wainwright's nephew!" Entwistle replied.

"True but he's about the last person who can help with anything. Just ask Marina," Cleggy sighed.

" While we're waitin' fer 'em an' I've got nothin' better goin' on. Care to tell me where your Smartphone is, Mr. Clegg?" Penny asked.

"I haven't gotten one yet. Just the cover," Clegg explained- as he showed the young nurse said cover.

"But that's an old cigar box!" Penny laughed.

"Auntie Wainwright said that it was the same brand Desi Arnaz used to smoke," Cleggy sighed.

"Who?!" Penny asked.

"Lucy Ball's first husband. Auntie Wainwright explained that since he helped build big TV empire for her and smoked that brand, box could help Cleggy build big Smartphone network," Entwhistle explained while Penny, Norm and Truly all shook their heads and did facepalms.

"One of the most ludicrous pitches I'd ever heard , even from her, and I paid £ 55 for it," Cleggy groaned.

"That's how Auntie Wainright wins," Truly sighed.

Howard and Pearl ran into the reception room as fast as their ages allowed them.

"Still wearing the flowered apron?" Truly sniffed.

" I was in the middle of dusting when I got the call and I had no time to put it away," Howard explained.

"You never have time for dusting," Pearl fumed.

"Mr. Sibshaw, your aunt's been brought in unconscious an' we need some vitals to 'elp 'er!" Penny pleaded.

"Right! I'll do all I can to help! For once I'll show all of you I can keep cool in a crisis!" Howard exclaimed.

"This'll be worth watchin," Pearl sneered.

"To begin with, wots your aunt's full name?" Penny asked.

"Uhm, I don't know. I always just called her 'Auntie'," Howard sighed.

"And no other name?" Truly groaned.

"Well, she's the only aunt I ever had so. ." Howard sputtered.

"Her date of birth, then?" Penny asked.

"I don't know. Mother always said it was rude to ask a woman her age," Howard groaned.

"Which side of your family is she from?" Cleggy asked- somewhat unexpectedly surprised at how surprised he was still at Howard's cluelessness.

"Side?" Howard asked.

"Was she your mother or father's sister," Truly groaned.

"Neither, I think," Howard sputtered.

"Neither than how could she be . .. ?" Penny started to ask.

"The same cursed way I'm linked to him- by marriage!" Pearl groaned.

"Marriage?!" Cleggy, Truly and Entwhistle all asked somewhat floored by the revelation.

Unbeknown to the rest of them, the subject of their discussion was in the hospital triage examining room still unconscious but thinking of the time in her life when would become Auntie Wainwright. . .


	2. Chapter 2

A/N- _killerqueenbex- Thanks for the review. I was wondering if anyone was interested and I hope this next chapter adds to yours and anyone else's intrigue._

Chapter Two

Holmsford, West Riding Yorkshire November,2013-

As the subject lay unconscious in the hospital examining room and everyone was alarmed at the octogenarian's prognosis.

"Come on! Wake up! Wake UP!" she heard being screamed in her ear.

"Don't want to wake up. Nothin' fer an old crone here," she sighed.

"What're ye talkin' 'bout, Girl?" a middle aged man with greying blond muttonchop whiskers under a stovepipe hat asked as she opened her eyes.

She knew the place. It wasn't where she'd last been in – not to mention it was no longer when.

.

.

Hull, East Riding, Yorkshire- August, _1943-_

She looked at her hands and saw that they were tiny as ever but completely smooth and unlined and she knew that she was seventeen.

" Thee're a pokey girl! What thee doin' in this house?" the man asked.

"I. . .I live 'ere," she stammered.

"That's a laugh. What would a factory gal be doin' livin' in a grand spot as this once were?" the man scoffed.

"I was on a break before the sirens wailed. I like to walk in this street to think of what it'd be like to. .. Wait a minute! What would an old mutt like you be doing inside here?" she protested –as she dusted some of the plaster off her blonde locks.

"Same as thee, taking shelter from the bombs," the man with fingerless woolen gloves sighed as he lifted her off the darkened stairwell while she raised herself on her feet.

"At least I'm a Hull gal but you don't fit in the city- or this century! What were you doing? Looting?" she scoffed as they still could hear NAZI bombs dropping in the distance.

"Looting? Mercy no, Girl! I was doing a service to these fine folks by relieving them of extraneous sundries they'd not have to sort out upon their return here," the man scoffed.

"An old doll an' a trumpet? You wouldn't get 5 quid for that," she protested.

"Only to folks who don't know the value of fine merchandise, " the man opined.

"You really think you can sell this junk ?" the girl scoffed.

"'Junk'? Haven't thee ever 'eard it said that one man's trash is another's treasure? It's what's been me bread n' butter almost ever since I could walk," the man sighed.

The girl saw that he had a pegleg sticking beneath his sooty, threadbare woolen tweed left pant's leg.

"You're goin' to tell me you got that in the Great War?" the girl asked.

"Nah, thee seem brighter than most folks in these here parts. Shouldn't thee be gettin' back to your real home?" the man asked.

"The All Clear's not been sounded and I can still hear bombs exploding. Besides, I don't think you've got a real home yourself," the girl protested.

"Cheeky Gal! What d'ye care if I do or not?" the man asked.

"Well, you're someone interesting to talk to," the girl offered.

"Thee sure know how to flatter a fella, " the man scoffed.

"Well, as long as we have to be stuck here together, shouldn't we talk?" the girl asked.

" 'Spose so. Have thee got a name?" the man asked.

"It's Lydia. Lydia . .. Grubb, " Lydia sighed.

"That's a pretty name- at least the first part," the man shrugged.

"Well, no one's used the first part since I was a wee one," Lydia sighed.

"They call thee Grubb?" the man asked.

"Me factory cronies an' the boss call me 'Grubby'. Same as my cousin who sent me there as soon as she thought me old enough ," Lydia sighed.

"Your own kin don't act like kin're s'posed to. I can relate," the man sighed.

"Do they hate your name?" Lydia asked.

"Nah, just me, " the man scoffed.

"So what's your name?" Lydia asked.

"The real one or the others?" the man asked.

"Your real one, of course. Don't worry. I won't tell the Air Raid Wardens or cops about you," Lydia insisted.

"It's Wainwright. Alfred. . . Wainwright," Alfred Wainwright admitted.

"What's so bad about . ..?" Lydia asked.

"I ain't exactly s'posed to have that name," Alfred admitted.

Lydia wondered what Alfred meant but before she could ask further.

At that moment, the All Clear Siren sounded.

" I guess I should be getting back to the factory so they won't count me dead and give my spot to some other rootless girl," Lydia asked.

"Yeah, well, I better get some of this gear to the countryside an' see if I can sell it," Alfred sighed as they walked outside and Lydia noticed a small handcart already loaded with all kinds of odd items obviously picked up from the rubble of the ruined city.

As he walked away, Lydia realized she hadn't thanked him from saving her life when she'd gotten knocked out from the bomb- and, as she made her way back to the factory [and could see that it was still working despite yet a few more craters in the roof and wall from this latest air raid], Lydia couldn't help but hope to see Alfred Wainwright again.


End file.
